


Funny Thing About Denial

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry!sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been denying his attraction to his brother for years but when he walks in on Dean jerking off on Sam's bed, Sam knows that it's a deliberate taunt and he can't hold himself back anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny Thing About Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal 8-28-16.

**Title:** Funny Thing About Denial  
**Author:** [](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/)**dragonspell**  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** Angry!sex  
**Summary:** Sam's been denying his attraction to his brother for years but when he walks in on Dean jerking off on Sam's bed, Sam knows that it's a deliberate taunt and he can't hold himself back anymore  
**Word Count:** 3345  
**Disclaimer:** Never happened, no affiliation.  
**A/N:** Written for the [](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/profile)[**blindfold_spn**](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/) prompt of [Sam/Dean - Anti-Incest Kink](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/2172.html?thread=2869884#t2869884): Both boys are disgusted by their attraction to each other and the fact that they can't control it. Cue hate!sex with lots of manhandling, wall!slamming, biting, them taking out their self-loathing on each other, etc.

Sam would have rather that it have been anybody else in the damn world. The crazy bum on the street corner. The waitress that Dean had fucked with the disgusting rash. Hell, _Bobby_. But no. It wasn’t any of those people that Sam was currently sporting a boner for. It was fucking _Dean_. Dean, his older brother. Dean, the guy who had practically raised Sam, who farted in the car and smiled like it was the funniest thing in the world, who believed in different levels of the dirtiness of socks.

This was wrong. This was so damn wrong. And yet here they were. Dean was staring back at Sam, his horrified face saying the same thing that Sam’s was but Sam couldn’t miss the unsubtle hard-on in Dean’s hand. Sam may have walked in on Dean spanking it but Dean certainly hadn’t done anything to cover himself. Just seeing Dean like that, laying on the bed with his legs spread wide made Sam throb painfully in his jeans. Damn it.

Sam had spent years ignoring this, disgusted by himself and thinking that maybe he should go see a shrink. Hell he _had_ seen a shrink out in Palo Alto—he just hadn’t been able to confess to this. He’d been working up to it. In the meantime, he’d repressed it.

And all it had taken to make the whole damn sick mess come crashing back was Dean choosing the wrong damn moment to jerk off. “Ya _mind_ , Sam?” Dean snarled. Matter of fact, now that Sam thought about it, Dean had been pulling this shit a lot. He’d been rubbing it in Sam’s nose whenever he scored with some cheap skank, making sure not to even take a shower before he slid into the Impala and made Sam ride with him for four hundred miles, forcing him to endure the stench of sex wafting off of Dean. He made it obvious—even more so than usual—when he went to go jerk off, making sure that Sam was well aware of what he was doing and where. Hell, the other day, he’d even left the door wide open while he jerked off in the shower. Sam had thought it had just been a bad latch and an unevenly hung door but now…now he was thinking that it had been deliberate because Dean was jerking off on _Sam’s bed_.

Oh, this shit ended _now_. Sam had spent years repressing the very same unnatural urges that Dean was apparently encouraging. Sam had _dealt_ with the guilt that his very first wet dream had been about his _brother_ —had gone through all the self-loathing and wondering what was wrong with him. What the Hell had Dean done? Spent his entire life bragging to Sam about just how good of a lay he was!

“Yeah, I mind,” Sam snarled back, his eyes narrowing. It was just plain wrong how hot Dean was looking right now. It was _sick_. Sam shouldn’t be attracted to his _brother_ this way. But he couldn’t deny that the sight of Dean’s dick had him hard. Sam wanted to go over there and fuck him into the mattress, incest or Dean’s consent on the matter be _damned_.

Dean bared his teeth and stroked himself, mocking Sam’s presence in the room. “Kind of busy here, Sammy. You can have your little bitchfit later.” He was eyeing Sam up and down, though, nonverbally telling Sam a very different story. Sam bit the inside of his cheek, trying to rein himself in but he couldn’t stop the answering shiver down his spine. Dean was fucking taunting him, daring Sam to do something about what they were both denying and _damn_ him for doing this. Sam had never felt more aroused or more ready to puke in his life—certainly not at the same time. He was disgusted with himself, horrified, but he couldn’t look away and Dean was refusing to back down as well, meeting him head on.

In Sam’s defense, he’d been holding steady until Dean licked his lips—those damn lips that Sam had spent his teenage years fantasizing about, coming again and again, hating himself each time. Arguably, Dean deserved it.

Sam slammed into Dean, pinning him to the bed, growling as he climbed on top. “Have you fucking _lost it_?” Dean demanded, struggling underneath him.

“Don’t even fucking try to pretend this isn’t what you wanted,” Sam snarled. Years of therapy and self-loathing _wasted_ because Dean couldn’t keep it to himself. What a fucking _douchebag_. And now here Sam was, ready to commit incest and hating himself for it but unable to stop. Not anymore. He’d stopped himself for years now it was plain out of his hands. All Sam had needed was a little bit of support doing the right thing but Dean being Dean, of course, he couldn’t give him that.

Sam gave in to what he’d wanted ever since he was freaking eleven years old, listening at the keyhole to Dean losing his virginity while Dad was out hunting and Sam was supposed to be at school. He smashed his lips to Dean’s, kissing him hard. Dean stopped protesting, his mouth opening in shock and Sam took advantage, slipping his tongue inside. God but Dean tasted like sin. It made sense, Sam figured. Since they were both obviously going to Hell and all. He doubted that God looked very favorably on brother-fucking.

Pain exploded in Sam’s mouth and he reared back, clutching a hand over his jaw, checking for blood. “You _fucker_ ,” he swore, the words coming out heavy with his tongue aching.

“Get the Hell _off_ me!” Dean shouted, kicking at Sam. He connected with Sam’s stomach, sending him tumbling off the queen-sized bed and onto the hard floor. The landing knocked the wind out of Sam and he hissed, feeling his back protest. He glared up at Dean but Dean was already off the bed too. Instead of running like he should have been, though, he was straddling Sam, strong arms attempting to pin Sam down as Dean ground his naked cock against Sam’s shirt. “What do you think you’re doing?” Dean hissed.

Sam glanced pointedly down at Dean’s fully erect dick. “What do you think _you’re_ doing?” he shot back.

Dean’s mouth twisted as he growled and then his teeth were sinking into Sam’s neck in a painful parody of a lovebite. Sam shouted, the sharp stab of Dean’s teeth making his nerves spasm but he jerked his hips up, too, seeking friction like the sick fuck he was. Like the sick fucks they both were.

Sam heaved upward, rolling Dean, startling him into letting go and knocking him into the bed, Dean’s head rebounding off the bed’s support bar. He grabbed a hold of Dean’s leg while Dean was still reeling from the hit, dragging him to lie flat against the floor as Sam climbed on top, grinding himself against Dean. Dean snarled, arching even as his hands came up to shove at Sam’s shoulders, trying to force him backwards. Sam slapped at his hands, knocking them away before he got a better idea and rolled Dean onto his stomach, pinning Dean’s flailing arms behind his back. Sam shoved his hard dick against Dean’s ass, feeling the soft give of the muscle contrasting with the harsh constriction of his jeans. Fuck yeah. That was good.

And so close to where he needed to be—he didn’t _want_ to be there, he _needed_ to be. “SAM!” Dean roared and Sam ground his face into the floor, rubbing his nose against the dirty carpet as he thrust against Dean’s ass, making it obvious what he intended to do. Yeah. That’d teach Dean.

Sam fumbled for his zipper, needing to free himself before his cock burst from all the pressure, and Dean took advantage of his distraction, rolling out from underneath him and kicking him for good measure. Sam took the hit, falling onto his ass on the floor while Dean skittered away.

Dean put his back to the wall, glaring at Sam and breathing hard and though he had red marks of rug burn across one side of his face now, his dick hadn’t shrunk one little bit. Sam glared back, daring Dean to make the next move, looking for his opening. He knew that if he was to head straight at Dean now, he’d only end up back on his ass, possibly in a lot more pain. Dean was expecting him right now. Dean was prepared.

As Sam watched, though, Dean suddenly growled and pulled off his shirt, baring his naked chest before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. Sam had seen Dean naked before—Hell, Dean fucking _delighted_ in parading around in front of him after all—but never quite like this—sweaty, pissed, and _aroused_. Desire stabbed painfully into Sam’s gut, making him shudder.

He wasn’t about to let a challenge like that go unanswered, either. Sam stood up and stripped off his own clothes, watching Dean’s eyes widen just slightly. Yeah, that was right. Sam wasn’t a scrawny little kid anymore and Dean was going to find that out in more ways than one in just a little while. Dean was staring at Sam’s dick, though, mouth open. Sam’s lips twisted into a mocking smirk and he reached down and grabbed himself, holding it up against his stomach, showing off his length. He knew damn well that he was bigger than Dean.

He hoped that Dean felt every extra inch, too, when Sam finally thrust into his ass.

“Penis pumps are bad for your heath, you know,” Dean mocked.

“Good thing I don’t need one, then,” Sam replied just before he lunged. Dean saw him coming but there wasn’t a damn thing that he could do about it before Sam was slamming him against the wall, Dean’s head bouncing off the dry wall. Dean’s arms closed just a little too late, wrapping around Sam instead of fending him off and Sam growled, pressing his full length against Dean. Dean’s fists came down on his back, beating on Sam and trying to get him to back away but Sam ignored them, instead pushing his own hands down between Dean’s legs. “Spread your legs,” Sam ordered.

“Fuck you!” Dean spit out, still beating on Sam’s back. He sank his teeth into Sam’s shoulder, making Sam reel in pain but like Hell Sam was going anywhere. He knew that if he backed up even a few inches, Dean would gain the upper hand.

“I said spread your damn legs!” Sam roughly seized Dean’s dick, tugging on it to get Dean’s attention. Dean’s teeth immediately left Sam’s skin and the beating stopped as his legs parted, obediently following Sam’s lead for once because Dean knew that Sam could very well follow through on his threat. With Dean temporarily subdued, Sam leaned down to kiss him again, tongue thrusting roughly inside Dean’s mouth and Dean allowing it, his attitude turning a 180 as he sucked on it hungrily. Dean’s dick twitched in Sam’s grip.

God, they were _enjoying_ this. This was more than just not being able to control themselves, this was fucking _liking_ it and they didn’t even have a damn curse to blame it on. Just their own sick, twisted selves. It was just a damn good thing that Dad was dead, Sam thought, because this probably would have killed the bastard for sure. Especially considering the way that Dean was moaning for it like a two dollar whore. Egged on by Dean’s slutty noises, Sam relinquished Dean’s dick and went for what he really wanted, his hands sliding around behind Dean to grab his ass.

Sam dug his fingers in, kneading the firm flesh and parted the cheeks, snaking a finger between, sliding it down Dean’s crack. Dean jumped up, startling Sam, and wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, forcing Sam to hold him up. Straining, Sam did so and plunged a finger into Dean’s ass as his reward.

Dean jerked, his eyes going wide and snapped his teeth down on Sam’s tongue again. _Bastard!_ Sam dropped him, sending him to the floor in a heap, backing away. “In your goddamned dreams, Sammy,” Dean hissed and he slammed into Sam from down below, sending him overbalanced and Sam’s arms pinwheeled before he landed hard on the bed, sprawling out half on and half off the mattress. Dean shoved him up a few more inches and knelt on top of his chest, knees digging into Sam’s shoulders and his dick resting against Sam’s panting mouth. Sam licked his lips, tongue slipping across the head of Dean’s dick and making Dean shudder even as he glared down at Sam. “How long you been dreamin’ of doin’ that, Sam? How long you been wantin’ to fuck your older brother? Sick fuck…” he accused.

As if Dean had any room to talk. “Just about as long as you’ve been dreaming of me sucking your dick,” Sam shot back. Neither one of them could make any claim of being normal and Dean damn well knew that. It was him that had driven Sam to this in the first place.

“Yeah?” Dean goaded. “Why don’t you do that then?” He pushed forward, rubbing his dick against Sam’s lips. Dean’s ridiculously pouty mouth was open and panting, betraying his own excitement about the whole damn thing and Sam smirked knowingly at him as he grabbed Dean’s hips, holding them in his hands.

“Because I’m going to fuck you first,” Sam rumbled. Dean yelped as Sam rolled them again, slamming Dean onto his back again only this time Sam used his grip on Dean’s hips to haul him up, only letting Dean’s shoulders touch the bed and giving him no leverage to work with as Sam hoisted Dean’s crotch to his face. “You fucking want it,” Sam growled. “Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

Sam hadn’t wanted to fuck his brother. He hadn’t. He found the whole damn thing disgusting but that didn’t mean that his dick had ever agreed with him. In retribution for driving him to this, Sam bit Dean’s inner thigh, teeth sinking in to leave his mark and Dean howled, grabbing a hold of Sam’s head.

“Fuck, Sam!” Dean swore, yanking at Sam’s hair. Sam winced at the pain and bit down harder. “ _Ow_ , jackass!” Dean stopped pulling Sam’s hair, hitting him instead. With Dean not being able to get the leverage to have much force behind the punch, Sam barely felt it but he still dropped Dean back down to the bed anyway. There was a bruise developing on Dean’s thigh, forming around Sam’s teeth marks and the sight made heart pound harder with something that felt scarily akin to satisfaction.

He _liked_ that he’d marked Dean. He didn’t have much time to admire his handiwork, though, because Dean shot up, aiming for another vengeful strike. Sam reared back, dodging, then used Dean’s own momentum to flip him, putting him back onto his stomach. “Motherfucker…” Dean said, trying to push himself to his knees as Sam climbed on top of him.

Sam thrust against Dean’s bare ass, shuddering because it was even better than the last time with no clothes in the way. He was so damn close to getting what he’d been denying himself for fucking _years_ now just because Dean was his brother and Sam didn’t want to think of him that way. Dean’s own. Damn. Fault.

Sam shoved two fingers inside of Dean, ignoring Dean’s shout of protest, roughly thrusting in and out. He was such a sick fuck for wanting this but, _God_ , he couldn’t stop himself. There was just something about Dean—there always had been. Sam pushed it all out of his mind, though, because, at this point, what did it fucking matter? He grabbed the lube that Dean had been using earlier, way back when Sam had first walked in on him, shocked and aroused and hating himself for it.

He roughly squirted some onto Dean’s ass, smearing it inside before slicking himself up. Dean had stopped fighting Sam sometime in the middle, instead grinding his dick against the bed like the slut he was. Sam reached down and pushed Dean’s legs farther apart before pressing himself inside of Dean.

Sam’s breath quickened, his heart pounding, as his entire focus shrank to just his dick and the tight feel of Dean’s ass around him. Holy _fuck_. Sam gasped as the muscle of Dean’s asshole clung to the head of his dick before Sam finally shoved through it, pushing into Dean’s warm body as the tight grip of Dean’s ass slid down Sam’s shaft. Sam groaned, dropping his head against Dean’s shoulder as he struggled not to come, a litany of ‘oh fuck’ echoing through his mind.

It took him a few moments to realize that the ‘oh fucks’ weren’t just in his mind. Dean was saying the phrase over and over, repeating it as he pushed back against Sam, wanting more. Both such _sick fucks_. Sam bit Dean’s skin, digging in at the join of his neck and Dean whined, tossing his head to the side. Figured the slut would like that. Sam’s hands scraped down Dean’s side as he started to thrust, rough, bruising jerks of his hips cruelly calculated to punish just as much as they were to get Sam off.

Dean moaned through it all, pushing up just enough to get a hand underneath himself to start pulling on his dick and Sam growled, biting down again. Then Dean was shuddering, gasping into the sheets as his ass tightened impossibly down on Sam. Sam grunted, surging forward. His eyes squeezed shut and then he was coming, too, flooding his brother’s insides.

Dean collapsed underneath him, flattening himself to the bed and Sam had no choice but to follow him down because his arms wouldn’t hold himself up anymore. The guilt came screaming into, because, _God_ , he’d just fucked his own brother! Sam felt his stomach rebel; he was pretty sure that he was about to throw up. He should probably get off of Dean first.

Off the bed, too, except that they’d already made a mess of it so what did it matter and, yes, Sam was definitely going to throw up. In a flash, he was up off of Dean, peeling himself away and pulling out of him before he darted for the bathroom. He made it just in time, falling to his knees in front of the toilet, hands gripping the porcelain as he tossed his entire lunch into the bowl.

“Didn’t think it was _that_ bad,” Dean remarked from somewhere behind him.

Sam glanced over his shoulder to see Dean leaning against the bathroom door jamb, still completely naked with Sam’s marks on prominent display. He looked like he’d come out of the wrong side of a bar fight. “I hate you,” Sam growled weakly, still clutching the toilet bowl and feeling another surge. He’d done that to Dean. _He’d_ done it.

“Feelin’s mutual, Sammy,” Dean shot back, following the formula to a T. Sam had just fucked his own brother. And liked it. Sam’s stomach heaved again.

Dean whistled as he stepped into the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. He turned his head from side to side, his hand rising to touch his face. “Damn, Sam,” he muttered. “Next time you want to take it a little easier?” He glanced over at Sam. “People’ll start asking questions if you don’t.”

“Next time?” Sam whispered, gaping at Dean and Dean raised his eyebrows because yeah. They both already knew that there’d be a next time; there was no going back now. Sam would have thrown up again if he had had anything left. After years of repression, of denying his sickest desires to himself, he’d finally fucked up and let it all go. That was the funny thing about denial. It had a way of coming back around.  



End file.
